


always forever

by duckstry



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Chapter 5 Spoilers, Drabble, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, M/M, Major Character Injury, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Other, Suffering Komaeda Nagito, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckstry/pseuds/duckstry
Summary: Nagito Komaeda was never afraid of death... Until he was.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	always forever

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic. i hope you enjoy.

Nagito Komaeda was not afraid of death. His luck withstanding, he’s cheated every crash, every scrape, every gunshot, every wound. There was really nothing stopping him from taking a high dive off Monokuma Rock. Something could fall from his pocket and break the surface tension before he hit the water. He treated death like an old friend, someone he could catch up with after he eventually kicked the bucket when Lady Luck decided to deal him the short end. He didn’t care what happened to him. He’d be greeted on the other side with a slap on the back saying, “I was thinking we were gonna miss you again.” 

His own blind reliance stemmed from years of tragedy. To consider Nagito an optimist would be wrong, but so would calling him a pessimist. His pessimism relied on his optimism, and vice versa. Indecisiveness wasn’t a new concept to him, but some things were better off in the head. He feared rejection. He outwardly hated despair. And he challenged life with a target on his chest, so desperately wanting to be used as aiming practice. If his death ended the despair on the island, that would be okay with him. 

Hajime knew this. He told this to the other boy on many occasions. It drilled into each one of his classmate’s heads, and while each of them stepped away from him, Hajime Hinata stayed there. No matter how many times he said he couldn’t stand hanging out with him, he stuck by his side. Hajime, the useless reserve student, and yet one of the most intriguing people Nagito had ever met. How did he end up in a place like this? Why had they met? He found himself asking questions he never thought he’d ask about someone so undeserving of his attention. 

Nagito had Hajime in mind during his final blowout. He had his mind on him for hours, this was no different. There were days where he would lie awake for hours thinking of why he had ever given the boy the time of day. In the early days of the school trip, he enjoyed his company. He payed no mind to the fact Hajime had forgotten his talent. His actions had proven he had something worth an ultimate. To end up being just a lowly reserve course, who only existed to be a money maker for Hope’s Peak. The thought was inconceivable. Hajime was worth something. Hajime meant something to him. 

But Nagito couldn’t think of that. Not in this given moment. Weeding out the traiter was the harder part of his own plan, leaving his whole plan to the luck on his side. His death would be worth it. More worth it than Hajime was. 

Why was he thinking about Hajime again? His disappointment when Nagito had revealed his true nature in the first class trial. The way he said he didn’t care, but still made it a point to check up on Nagito while he had the Despair Disease. Nagito wanted to call out to him. Wanted him to stay. But all that came out of his mouth, “I hate looking at your face. Get out.” No, no, he didn’t want to say that. And Hajime left him alone. 

As Nagito set up the Monokuma cutouts, he stuffed the bottom in just the right way that’ll knock over the right way. In a domino effect. From the first day, he didn’t think he’d last long. His own trash was only overshadowed by his luck. It was only by luck his plan would succeed. If he was the last to die at the hands of despair, that would leave Hajime alive. And for once, Nagito didn’t hate the idea. Hajime wasn’t the traitor. He would stay alive.

He placed a lighter, open and ready, at the end of the domino pattern of cardboard, right next to the curtain. He carefully got to the other side and got to work. His feet tied, he stared down at his own hands... What was he doing? If Byakuya were still alive... or whoever the man impersonating him was... he’d tell him that there was a better way. In reality, there wasn’t. Nagito was never meant to survive the killing school trip. 

What would Hajime do when he died? Surely, he would think nothing of it. As useless as Hajime is, Nagito was also insignificant. He wasn’t a true ultimate, just a stepping stone to their success. If they stepped on him to get out of here alive, more hopeful than their previous lives, he truly didn’t mind. Who would be the first to weep at his death? Sonia perhaps? She herself was built on despair, as was he himself, but she didn’t know hers. Who considered someone like him a friend? 

The tape stung across his face, the baby hairs on his cheeks getting pulled with every scream he tried to breathe out. His legs stung. Each stab deep into his leg felt like a thousand needles pinching his thigh as they settled. His hand felt worse. If the despairs didn’t show up soon, he may have dropped the spear from sheer blood loss. It almost felt like Nagito was underwater. His hearing started to fall out, slowly but surely. Just felt like a dip in the Mirai Resort pool, or the ocean. 

He thought back to the first day. The way they were supposed to be happy, and the mere minutes he played in the water, trying to settle Hajime’s frantic muttering, before the school trip got bloody. The school trip didn’t seem so bad. People didn’t hate him as much as he hated himself. 

In the muddled automatic damage response of his head, he heard the slam or the door. His whole body felt warm. The curtain went up in flames above him. Nagito blinked back tears. The wounds in his body felt like a dull pain at this point. He could barely feel them anymore. The spear swung idly. He held his own life in his hands once again, yet quite literally this time. 

And then the air was wet. It was wet and muddy and with each breathe he took, the foul smell of poison filled his lungs. What’s Hajime going to say? He thought again. He wanted Hajime to cry for him. He wanted Hajime to see what he did and be proud he gave everything up for hope. He wanted Hajime to get out of this alive. He wanted Hajime Hinata. He wanted to survive. 

When Nagito lost the feel of the rope in his hand, his whole body went numb. He barely registered the spear peaking through his stomach. He looked up, no longer seeing the ceiling of the building, just merely seeing the bright expanse of light. He tried to force a scream out of his throat. Nothing came out. 

No. No. Why did I do this? Why did I go? Why? Why. Why. Why. Why? There was no longer an expanse of knowledge in his head. But the last thing he heard with his own ears was the scream the boy he had fallen in love with had let out upon seeing the body. 

Mortality was so much more than he thought. And Nagito Komaeda made the realization that he was truly afraid of death, but only because it meant going on without Hajime Hinata.


End file.
